


loving you is the only theory in my life

by beaubcxton



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: 5 + 1 Things, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Acts Like a Cat, F/M, LadyNoir - Freeform, Social Media
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22991383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beaubcxton/pseuds/beaubcxton
Summary: Love is painful and agonizing, involves heart-ripping moments when one believes they have the ability to flood civilizations with their grief, but people do it anyway. Love is what makes people human, and drives them to be the best version of themselves. In the end, the only constants that remain are death, change, and love.“My name starts with the letter M.” Ladybug blurts out, and when his hands still, she continues, “If something ever happens, you’re one close step to finding me because I want to grow old — grow old with you, that is. I don’t think I’d mind groaning about how loud the music is, or how my legs ache because of the awful stairs we had just walked if you were right there with me.”“Bug.” Chat stares at her, infinitely enthralled, dazed almost as if his partner was an enchantress who had him under a spell, which wasn’t really far from the truth, metaphorically speaking.or, Five times Chat Noir jokes about dying, and the one time he means it.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 15
Kudos: 184





	loving you is the only theory in my life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Queen_Aster_Luna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Aster_Luna/gifts), [nanahoney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanahoney/gifts), [maketea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maketea/gifts), [JessicaOgren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaOgren/gifts), [Haachin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haachin/gifts).



> I do acknowledge that I've gifted this fic to a lot of people, but I just want to say this: The above mentioned are some of my favourite people who are so, so kind and I just want to let you know that I love you all!
> 
> To @JessicaOgren who I've not technically interacted with previously, I wanted to thank you for your lovely comment on my last fic! 
> 
> I hope all of you like this x

  * **part 1**



The end of the world does not end with a bang. 

It ends with Ladybug, her hands — _dieu_ , her hands — tangled in his hair, her breath and soul pressed against his, giggles spilling from an open vessel. 

Kissing Ladybug was unlike anything Chat Noir had ever known, inexplicably beautiful and incredible like a painting etched with the raw algorithm of human emotion. 

“I’ve —” The word is punctured with a kiss. “—been meaning—” Another delightful kiss that sends his heart soaring into the yawn of the universe. “—to do this for ages.”

“I love you.” Chat murmurs, soaking in this dream, for it was an exceptional one, crafted by Morpheus and all the Olympians combined. “I love you so much my heart hurts with the intensity of it.” 

Chat Noir moves, presses a fragile, shaking kiss on Ladybug’s neck, where suit met vacancy and was rewarded with a blush, blooming like roses in the prettiest of gardens. Would it be a shame, a pathetic waste of his time to indulge in this dream — this fantasy his mind has offered him? 

There aren't any possible scenarios to explain this magnificent daydream. The real Ladybug had _never_ shown interest in him — and loved a boy who she compared to the sun. Yet, here Ladybug exists, nearly sending him to a collapsed pile of ardent love. 

“I love _you_.” Ladybug grins, bright, happy and warm. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

“You’re the most wonderful dream.” Chat replies, pulling her closer to his chest, and ended up landing the pair of them onto the floor. Would he wake up now—?

Ladybug bubbles over him, a sunrise stretching her face, and squeezes his hand. “Hi, hi,hi.”

There were times when Adrien worried he would lose contact with Ladybug, and he would never know the person under the mask. And, there were moments, painful and heartbreaking nightmares where all his memories with Ladybug, the proclaimed love of his life were conjugated by his memory, mere hallucinations driven by insanity. 

It terrified him to think of either situation, of not seeing this vision, who truly looked and acted like a goddess, the only person in the history of the universe who had the ability of squeezing a man’s heart by simply existing. 

“Hi, Bug.” Chat lets out a soft breathy chuckle, and _somehow_ manages to summon the ability to reach out to bounce a stray curl of hair. _Dieu_ , even her hair was beautiful. “I don’t want to ever wake up.” 

“Do you think this is a dream, minou?” A delightful laugh is followed by hands fumbling to squeeze his cheeks as if to assure him that there was more to her than cosmic dust and wisps of imagination. “If this is another cheesy pick up line, I swear I’ll throw you off a roof — no matter how much I love you.” 

“You’re sending me mixed signals, my heart. On one hand, the Ladybug in my dreams finds my puns _hilarious_ but on the other hand, you’re telling me you love me. _Me_!”

“Yes, you. You’re wonderful and —”

“What about the other boy?” 

“I need you.” Ladybug murmurs, staring at him like he’s hung her the stars which is ridiculous because it was her who — by sheer will and grace — brought him the very moon and the entire universe. “You’re my partner, and when I’m with you, I feel like I’m at home. And, isn’t that the very definition of love — of comfort and home?”

Chat adjusts the pair of them, a sea of diamonds glittering and echoing in his eyes, and kisses her forehead tenderly. “You’ve made my entire life, Bugaboo. Thank you — for existing, for _dieu_ , everything and for giving me a chance.”

The rose colour of Ladybug’s cheeks is very distracting, indeed. “Finally convinced yourself you aren’t dreaming, minou?” 

“No.” The answer is soft, and truthful. “Oh my dieu. If I’m not dreaming, does that mean I’m dying? Is that why you’ve kissed me — as my dying gift?” 

“Stop being so dramatic.” Ladybug lets out a breath — a curious combination between a laugh and an exasperated sigh. “And, just kiss me, already.” 

* * *

  * **part 2**



“It’s official, Bug.” Chat hisses as the tears of the sky drenched him, owing to his foul mood. “I’m no longer young and beautiful, like the charming cat I was.” 

“Please stop. It’s much too early — “

“It all started when I was thirteen. It was a Sunday morning, and I had simply stood.” 

“ _Chaton_ , please.”

“Stood, my love, stood from the dining table when the most horrific event of my life occurred. My back began to ache. I could easily imagine myself, then, wearing those long and saggy trousers with a walking stick by my side, and you, of course — always, you.”

“Chaton.”

“It was the following year I noticed the first sliver of white hair, and now I’m grumbling at the sight of the rain, at the time and wishing I was in bed. The horrors! I’m _dying_ , Ladybug, _dying_. The end has arrived.” 

Ladybug sighs, and flicks her partner’s forehead. “I need to find the warranty on this relationship.” 

“You love me.” Chat hums, bops her nose and laughs loudly when she offers him an annoyed frown. “And, I adore you. We make quite a fine match, don’t you think Bugaboo?”

“We do.” Ladybug rests her head on his shoulder — truly, this was the best way to die, in the company of his favourite person. “Did you really mean all that? Growing — growing old with me?” 

“Of course, my Chérie.” He gently combs her hair, fingers sorting each knot with a tenderness he longed for. “You’re the only constant I need in my life.” 

Love is painful and agonizing, involves heart-ripping moments when one believes they have the ability to flood civilizations with their grief, but people do it anyway. Love is what makes people human, and drives them to be the best version of themselves. In the end, the only constants that remain are death, change, and love. 

“My name starts with the letter M.” Ladybug blurts out, and when his hands still, she continues, “If something ever happens, you’re one close step to finding me because I want to grow old — grow old with you, that is. I don’t think I’d mind groaning about how loud the music is, or how my legs ache because of the awful stairs we had just walked if you were right there with me.” 

“Bug.” Chat stares at her, infinitely enthralled, dazed almost as if his partner was an enchantress who had him under a spell, which wasn’t really far from the truth, metaphorically speaking.

“I’d do anything for you, and I can’t wait to grow old with you. You’ll look beautiful, I’m sure, you always do. They’ll even put it on the record: Oldest Woman Looks Like A Goddess.” 

“Shut up, minou.” Ladybug shoves him, igniting a laugh from him and covers her face with a whine. 

(It was impossible to love someone this much, Adrien decides, but Ladybug rather did achieve the impossible.) 

“I’ll die from your compliments someday. My heart cannot take it.”

“And, my heart cannot handle your face so I declare it only fair.” The reply is cheeky, yet distinctly present of fond truths, once more. “Do you think about it — our future? Us, in ten years, or so?” 

Ladybug laces their fingers together and traces one of his fingernails, and it shouldn’t make him shiver — it _shouldn’t_ — but it does. “A lot, actually. You?”

“I think we’d get married at sunrise, and have three beautiful children, hopefully, and they’ll have your wonderful genes.” 

“Does Emma, Hugo and Louis sound good?”

“Anything My Lady wants, and the kids would ask for a pet and we’d groan about it, but we’d get a hamster, maybe several, actually and we’d be this gross married couple, constantly kissing and acting lovesick.”   
  
"So not much change from now, then?"  
  
He kisses her in response, unaware of the crowd cheering below them, his mind registering only a glittering star. This is love: happiness hidden in folds of silence. As his stars align, the constellations themselves stretch their hands, longing for an embrace soon to be delivered

* * *

  * **part 3**



Adrien smiles widely. “Isn't this the happiest you've ever been?”

There are a plethora of reasons on why Adrien loves school, ranging from learning concepts that never ceased to astound him, to meeting his friends who were the epitome of love and kindness. 

Particularly, one of his favourite reasons is this: a grove unknown to most, derived from a fairytale surely — as it provides a handy space to sleep off Akuma weariness, or any other variation of exhaustion. Perhaps, to a stranger, it might have been odd to find lying in the sunshine a source of happiness, but Adrien had always been one of a kind. 

Nino rolls his eyes, crosses his arms over his chest. “Bro, I know Alya calls you Sunshine head but like, this is taking it a bit too far, don't you think?”

Adrien gestures with his hand. “You’re blocking my sun, dude. And, don't you hear that? They're calling my name. Screaming it for the whole world to hear!”

“We’re literally the only people on the grounds and I’m just going to pretend like you just didn’t imply the sun was talking to you.” Nino drags a hand down his face, whines a little before he flops on the ground. “I hope you're happy. You’re allowing my freshly cleaned clothes to be contaminated with the ground.”

“It's so warm, so sunny.” Adrien stretches, shutting his eyes and allowing himself to bathe in the sunshine. “I'm dying out of the sheer ecstasy of it.”

There isn't any dramatic fashion in that sense, merely a little irony for it is his alter ego that thrived under the sunlight. Apparently, Plagg and Ladybug had explained that the Miraculous traits bled onto their civilian lives. It started with the microscopic actions or appearances that could easily be shrugged off with a flimsy excuse, like an embarrassing purr here and there, and moments like these, of course, but they eventually led to more dominant traits like hissing at other cats, and sniffing other people, evidently. That was wonderful, really, and definitely not strange in the slightest. 

“You remind me of my Grandmother’s cat, dude.” There's a laugh, followed by some rustling. “Petracia _adores_ the sun an unnecessary amount — “

“I'm sorry, but did you say Petracia?” It is at that precise moment when the boy formerly known as Adrien Agreste, who composed of matter and stardust, dissolves into a fit of cackles. “You named your cat _Petracia_ ? Oh mon _dieu_ , Nino. That poor thing.”

“Hey, I didn't name it, and it's still a pretty good name.” Nino defends, his title transferring to Petracia’s biggest fan. “Anyway, dude, she always scratches me when I visit, and forces me to take her out for a walk. You remind me of her, minus the scratching.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

Nino snorts. “What? That you look like my Grandmother’s old, and stinky cat?”

“Well, I’ve never been outright told that I'm stinky, but I'd assume so if my photographers looks are any indication. And, my back, dude. My _poor_ back. I'm old as hell.” 

“You're literally the fittest model in the world.” Nino throws an arm over Adrien, scoots closer, and murmurs, “Plus, you smell great, dude. You're the epitome of perfection. Well, except for your weird side. I can't believe you got me to cuddle on the grass.” 

“It's nice, isn't it?” Adrien murmurs, drifting in the warmth that rained down over him. “Shit, bro, you’re a furnace. Come closer.”

There were two types of silences: 

One was the kind of silence that prevailed at home when the only sounds Adrien heard were his breathing and occasionally the patterns of the piano.

And, the other was this: There was the faint thrum of the Earth, of course, the symphony of magic, along with the lullabies of the breeze swallowing the chirping of birds, and the distant sounds of traffic.

The former left his brain a chaotic, senseless memory while the latter had the potential to allow his brain to remain blissfully silent. The rustle of the trees offered him a serenity that left him awed. It was alike in the sense that it reminded him of Ladybug’s company, and the silence that preceded their whispers. 

“Well, well, hello lovebirds.” The voice belongs to Alya on closer inspection. She’s sporting a wide grin, phone blinking in hand. “I always knew Nino would betray me for you.” 

Adrien snorts, and pointedly throws a leg over Nino’s hip. “Sorry Als, Nino and I’ve eloped. Please contact us after the honeymoon.” 

“Babe?” 

Nino hums in response. “Sorry, love. He’s too warm, I can’t leave him.” 

Adrien cackles as he throws Alya a nearly wicked smile, secretly wondering if he’s ever been happier than then — surrounded by the best of people, in the best of places. 

* * *

  * **part 4**



Adrien pouts, and leans over the various textbooks dotting the table much like his alter ego would. He’d been at it for nearly a quarter of an hour; following the fruitless path of convincing her that a distraction was in requirement. 

Marinette rolls her eyes. “That’s not going to help, Ade.” 

“What about now?” Adrien adjusts his posture, balancing his chin on the heel of his palm, as he opted for a pitiful look. In the past, it had worked with Ladybug in times of crisis when she was hesitant to eat ice cream on the job. “Does this work?”

It’s obvious that his efforts obtain a similar reaction from both the goddesses in Adrien’s life, for Marinette gapes at him for a brief moment before dropping her head onto the desk. “Nope, nope, nope. I’m going to converse with you like this now.”

“Part success!” He crows, much to the displeasure of the working category in the library. “Sorry?” 

(The reasons for the horrified stares from people who cease to be human at particular seasons are of course, owing to the fact that exams are a looming concern, and nearly the entire population of France had most decidedly not studied for it.) 

Marinette plucks out her phone, and gestures towards it. 

> **mari** _to alya please start running AWAY from akumas._
> 
> I SAID NO
> 
> **ade**
> 
> PLEASE
> 
> als has changed the group chat name from _alya please start running AWAY from akumas_ to _I put the No in Alya_
> 
> **niYES**
> 
> What’s happening? 
> 
> niYES has changed the group chat name from _I put the No in Alya_ to _there literally isn’t a no in your name, that’s MY THING._
> 
> **mari**
> 
> Adrien’s being a child. 
> 
> **niYES**
> 
> Let me rephrase this, then: What’s new?
> 
> **ade**
> 
> Sometimes, I question my past. 
> 
> And, I wonder why I even bothered to show up @ school bc the betrayal here is juST RIDICULOUS. 
> 
> **als**
> 
> I think you mean
> 
> Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. 
> 
> **Chloe-Honey**
> 
> I’M STILL HERE, YOU KNOW. 
> 
> **ade**
> 
> MARINETTE PLEASEEEE
> 
> ade changed the group chat name from _there literally isn’t a no in your name, that’s MY THING_ to _Marinette PLEASE_
> 
> mari changed the group chat name from _Marinette PLEASE_ to _STOP CHANGING THE TITLE_
> 
> **niYES**
> 
> Is anyone going to tell me what this child wants or am I supposed to guess? 
> 
> **als**
> 
> TRIVIA!
> 
> MY ANSWER IS HE WANTS MACARONS
> 
> **niYES**
> 
> THAT AND HE WANT PUN PRIVILEGE
> 
> **mari**
> 
> Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner.
> 
> **ade**
> 
> sTOP LAUGHING MARINETTE I’M SITTING RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU. 
> 
> **mari**
> 
> Oops
> 
> **ade**
> 
> PLEASEEE LETS GET SOME PASTRIES AND OOH!! Some juice?
> 
> I will literally die if you don’t fulfill my request.
> 
> **mari**
> 
> No
> 
> **niYES**
> 
> Then, perish. 
> 
> **als**
> 
> Bet he’ll respond with Et tu, Brutus? 
> 
> **Chloe-Honey**
> 
> I’ll take that bet. Anyone wants to bet that he’s pouting at the moment? 
> 
> **ade**
> 
> This is bullying.
> 
> It really is. 

“Dieu, fine, you drama queen.” Marinette shuts her books and stretches. The pink shirt donned on her person is a maze for her hands, and flinging the sleeves upwards, with a reminder to sew that mistake later, she announces, “Let’s get some juice!”  
  
“The berry flavoured one?” 

Few people have the ability to get excited over the most mundane of scenarios — particularly, the topic of juice — and Marinette couldn’t help but adore the way her friend’s face positively began to beam. It is quite easy to get lost in joy like that, a world wherein an exit was unnecessary. 

“Yes, you dork. I’ll throw in a few extra macarons if you keep the puns to a minimum” The words are accompanied with a giggle, and hand in hand, they stroll out into the universe, sunlight blinding them from the obvious. Yet, the ground hums -- a close, a promise, an almost.

* * *

  * **part 5**



Marinette had never thought whacking the love of her life sat on her agenda, but apparently, she had channelled Rapunzel in those crucial moments between the moment her boyfriend had visited her civilian self at her home to the moment where he currently sat nursing the blooming bruise on his cheek. 

“I’m so sorry.” Marinette malfunctions, taking a heartbeat to gaze at his bruise on Chat’s cheek before hurrying her room, looking for _anything_ that could serve as collateral that would fix the giant, hurricane of a mess she had landed herself into.

There was the ice, of course, that Chat Noir was clutching onto like a lifeline, but Marinette needed something that could vanish her problem with the blink of an eye — something like an amnesia spell, or a whole hospital at her disposal. 

“I’m genuinely dying right now.” Chat moans, and drapes his other hand to smack his forehead. “I trust you hadn’t meant to do it on purpose, Princess.” 

“Stop being so dramatic.” Marinette murmurs instinctively, soft and lost in a universe where she was in jail, the civilian — the _criminal_ — who had been foolish enough to attack one of Paris’s superheroes. 

Chat freezes.

It’s too late to swallow the words, and let them drown in the space that is lost in her chest. Suddenly, Marinette is afraid to think about the sunsets rising in the span of breaths, the eyes chasing her and the made-up games, in case they spill out like blood from the Greek Olympians who have fallen to their Achilles heel. 

“What?” Heartbeat pounding in her ears, it’s a wonderful and terrible display of acting that allows Marinette to pretend she had nil context of one of their many running jokes. “Do you have a concussion?” 

“You reminded me of someone, that’s all.” Chat stares at her a second longer, before shaking his head, locks of sunlight dancing and nearly glowing under the shine of her bedside lamp, and then winces and presses the ice bag against his bruise a bit more aggressively. “Why does everyone say that, though? Is it like, a meme or something?” 

“Probably.” Marinette just about refrains herself from bopping his nose. “Or, perhaps, people simply don’t find your theatrics amusing.” 

The moment fragments into dust, like particles glowing in the embers of sunlight and it's hardly surprising when Marinette longs for the topic to be discussed much more thoroughly.

As a Miraculous holder, the duty of remaining silent in the face of all calamities remained as deafeningly important as ever, despite a blossoming romance with her partner.

However, as _Marinette_ , a teenager who longed to hold her boyfriend's hand, to doodle his name onto the corners of her notebooks, and tag him in the dumbest memes that somehow, coincidentally flooded her dashboard, well, it was safe to say that if a chance slip up had the ability to obliterate the masks, she wouldn't have been despondent about the fact.

The smile thrown at her isn't solely reserved for only her alter self, but it's a genuine, fond smile nonetheless. 

“Would you like anything else?” Marinette finally asks, shoves her desire into an imaginary cupboard, and secures the lock. It floods out anyway like it's a river that dared not be contained. “For your face, which I'm still sorry about.”

“My, that's awfully rude! I didn't realize the sight of my face was so horrific that it warranted apologies from even kind civilians.”

How _coy_ , how _them_. “Shut up, you know I didn't mean it like that.” 

“Oh, so you think my face is pretty?”

Rather traitorous of her face to flare up at a moment like that, Marinette thinks, feeling utterly embarrassed. “Chat Noir. Related searches include cocky and cheeky.”

“One has to applaud you for your stellar acting skills.” He’s bent double at this point, a hand pressed against his right eye, a vessel to any stray tears. “I mean, it's so obvious that you're just avoiding the _question_! I love you Princess, but my heart belongs to my Lady.”

Marinette crosses her arms. “You better bounce before I murder you. Don't even suggest things like _that._ You're like, my brother.”

There's a beat of silence in which she realizes the severity of words, and it's dramatic play out when the reveal occurred. Out of all the possible excuses, it had to be that _one_.

Then: A laugh from the accompanied, followed by: You still know whether I'm attractive or not, don't you?

Marinette sighs exasperated, wonders if she's going to be ninety the next minute with him still laughing away to glory, and throws a pillow at his head. 

* * *

  * **part 6 ( 5 + 1 )**



( There is lust. 

The heart-pounding moments and the butterflies in your stomach are spread against a blank sheet of paper, with the pen of pining and desire dancing. It is similar to holding your breath, preceding the action of diving into a pool of hope. 

There is love. 

There is humming early in the morning, trading morning breath, secrets and confessions. Love is a scary thing, and it is diving — mortally afraid of heights. It’s a risky thing, and the people who survive the plunge fall into a wonderland, of sorts. 

There is partnership. 

It’s a plethora of all the wonderful qualities known to mankind, and a potion of the potentially harmful ingredients. Diving isn’t scary anymore — not when the knowledge that your partner would catch you is secure. It is a tangency of situations, kissing till lips were sore, screaming and throwing yourself over someone — only thinking of their protection, of strategies and meticulous analyzing. 

Partnership — a tricky, whimsical word. It was merely coincidental how the word was the most important one of them all, surely. )

Chat Noir groans. 

There is a terrible heartbeat of ignorance followed by a flurry of senses, from the throbbing pain in his skull down to the apparently bleeding wound somewhere around his abdomen.

Honestly, Adrien had never been a fan, or rather someone who could tolerate the very sight of blood, so he didn't want to check the precise location of his wound.

Perhaps, it was stupid of him to believe that their suits were mostly indestructible, to have been under the assumption that he was _safe._

The world is hardly lucky enough to be free of that particular horror, but _superheroes_ aren't supposed to _die_ , not when the sole reason for his looming death is merely because of a conservative who didn't _trust_ magic and its variations.

Is it too much to ask for a story where the superheroes didn’t end their day like this? Couldn’t superheroes turn the ripe age of ninety and whine about their back issues like he had discussed with Ladybug? 

_Dieu, Mon ange._ Chat thinks, his heart heavy, the size of the universe. _Please forgive me._

It might have been raining, then, and Chat wouldn’t have known any difference. The memories rush him like a thundering waterfall. Perhaps, they had realized that there wouldn’t be a chance of reviewing and appreciating some of the dreams and thoughts, and each pinprick of memory was desperate to reach the forepart of his mind. 

There are flowers of moments and laughs involving Nino, Marinette and Alya, their secret smiles and handshakes, along with the stupid giggles they let out when they passed each other notes during class. 

Perhaps, his father would miss him, or wouldn’t notice any difference. At least, this way, Adrien would be one step closer to meeting his mother. 

Chat Noir pushes all these thoughts at the back of his head, never to be heard again, and focuses on the dream and song in his heart, the brush of wind on a crisp summer day and the most important person in his life. 

In the end, pain and regret fade in the ghost of Ladybug’s warm smile, her kind hands and her voice drowns everything away, leaving only a wall of bliss. 

**Chat Noir** to **_Love Of My Life_** at 10:30 pm: *sends audio* 

_Hey love, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I know I’ve said this a million times, but I think I’m really dying this time. I love you so much, please don’t ever forget that._

**Ladybug** to **_Dork Of My Life_** at 10:35 pm: _stop being SO dramatic, Chaton. Oh mon dieu._

 **Ladybug** , at 10: 40 pm: _Why is your position stuck at the same place for this long?_

 **Ladybug** , at 10: 43 pm: _Chaton, please, answer me._

 **Ladybug** at 10: 45 pm: _I’m coming. If you’re reading this, please wait for me._

The universe howls and shatters under shaking fingers. Life spares nil discrimination among its children — it breathes love into people, and carries it away in the gaps of time. Yet, love makes life worth living, and as it started, it ends: with rain and tears. 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> There are several details that I've incorporated here like Marinette giving him hints to her identity, but it ends without him knowing who she really is. 
> 
> Tumblr - @plaggtastic


End file.
